Stolen Songbird

Page 13

“God in heaven!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? Everyone is looking for you – we found your horse in our fields and signs of a struggle in the woods.”
“Luc took me,” I choked out, burying my face in his neck and inhaling the smell of home. “He sold me to them. You need to help me. You need to tell my brother. You need to take me home.” I was babbling, I knew, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Help me, Chris. Please!”
He grew still, his arms tight around my waist. Raising my face, I saw that all around us trolls were watching with angry faces. Albert pushed his way through the crowd, his face twisted with a dark scowl. Everyone backed away, giving him room.
“Get away from her, human,” he snarled.
Chris set me down between him and the wagon. “I don’t think so.”
“It wasn’t a request, stupid boy.” Albert stalked towards us, his smooth movement at odds with his bulk.
There was a commotion in the crowd and a soaking wet Élise stepped through. She darted around Albert and hurried over to me.
“You must stop this madness, Cécile,” she gasped out, wet strands of hair clinging to her face. “You are going to get people killed!”
“Stay away from her, you nasty creature!” Chris swatted at Élise. She ducked under his hand easily, but the damage was done.
Albert roared an inhuman word and Chris was launched up in the air, then slammed against the ground.
Shrieking, I grabbed hold of him, trying to stop the invisible force, but I was powerless against it. Both of us were shaken in the air like rag dolls in the mouth of a maniacal hellhound.
“Don’t hurt her!” Élise shouted.
Abruptly, I was torn away from Chris and landed in a heap next to the wagon.
Chris remained locked in Albert’s magic, which now had him pressed hard against the paving stones.
“Let me go!” he bellowed, squirming ineffectually against his invisible bonds.
“Kill him!” someone in the crowd shouted. “He broke the laws!”
“Kill the human,” another chimed in. “Slit his throat!”
Chris’s oaths abruptly broke off, his face turning red. “I prefer smothering,” Albert said to the crowd with a smile. “Less mess.”
“It is the duty of the trade magister to pass sentence!” Élise’s voice was strong. “You overstep your authority.”
“Stay out of this, Élise,” Albert said. “I would not want to see you hurt.”
“What is going on here?” The crowd parted and Tristan sauntered over, pausing to pat the mule on the nose.
I flung myself at his feet. “Make them stop – they’re killing him.”
“I see that,” he said. “I assume he did something to deserve it. Guillaume?”
“Took a swipe at Miss Élise, and,” he added, raising his voice, “he disrespected me.”
“Is that so?” Tristan raised one eyebrow. “One can hardly imagine why.”
“He…” the guard started to respond, but Tristan interrupted.
“Yes, yes, Albert. I believe you. Now would you mind…” He brushed at his mouth.
“Oh!” Albert dragged a sleeve across his face, removing most of the pink frosting. “Sorry, my lord.”
“Much better,” Tristan said. “It is always important to look the part when you are about to do something nefarious. You were really ruining the effect.” He ignored my attempts to get his attention. My eyes searched the crowd for someone, anyone, who might help. But all the half-bloods had retreated. I saw Chris’s father, hands balled into fists and eyes wide with fear. He stood at the edge of the crowd, but he wasn’t watching his dying son. He was watching Tristan.
“Who wants to see the human boy killed for his insolence?” Tristan shouted.
“Kill him!” the crowd shouted.
I reached for the dagger at his waist, intent on burying it in his gut if that’s what it took. He caught my wrist, holding it still.
“Who wants to see his blood run through the streets?” he shouted over their cheering voices.
“Kill the human!” they screamed.
“Who wants to suffer through another famine?”
Silence.
“Just as I thought,” Tristan said, his voice carrying through the crowd. The hand holding my wrist twitched and I heard Chris gasp behind me, Albert’s magic vanquished.
I jerked out of Tristan’s grasp and scrambled on hands and knees to Chris’s side. “Are you all right?” I whispered.
“Yes.” His voice was raspy, but the redness was fading from his face. “He’s a devil, that one,” he whispered. “The worst of them – you should hear the things he says. The rumors of what he does to those who cross him.”
I frowned. “He just saved your life.”
Chris’s lip curled back, his teeth showing. “Listen.”
“These humans are our tools,” Tristan lectured to the crowd. “Until someone can teach the mule to grow crops and load his own wagon, we must rely on creatures with at least a modicum more intelligence to do the work.”
“I’ll get you out,” Chris said, hand rising to grip my shoulder. “Whatever it takes, I promise I’ll get you out of here.”
“You all know my feelings about humanity,” Tristan shouted. “But that does not mean I do not recognize their usefulness. If I cut my finger on a good blade, I don’t melt it down out of spite!”
“Listen to him prattle on,” Chris hissed. “Treating us like animals!”
“Shut your fool mouth!” His father had pushed his way to our sides. I flinched as he cuffed Chris across the head. “I swear your mother must have dallied with another man because I’ll never understand how I fathered a boy as daft as you.”
Jérôme caught my wrist, eyes running over the silver marks tracing my fingers. “Lord in heaven, I never believed I would see the day.” He gripped my hand tightly. “Listen to me, Cécile, and listen well. You’ve landed yourself in a pit of vipers, each one slyer and deadlier than the next. They are incapable of lying, but that does not mean they cannot deceive.” He pulled me closer and I could smell the sweat of hard labor on his skin. “Actions speak louder than words – remember that!”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. They were leaving me here – I could see it in Jérôme’s eyes.
“You’re a smart girl, Cécile. You’ll figure it out.”
Fingers closed around my arm, heat burning through the sleeve of my dress. Tristan unceremoniously hauled me to my feet. “Jérôme, it would be best if you left as soon as possible. I trust your next visit will be less eventful. And you.” He glared at me. “You and I are going to have words about this.”
I sensed his agitation and prudence warned me against dragging my feet. With his hand latched on my arm, I followed him through the streets. The guards and the dripping Élise came too, but I did not fail to notice the distance they kept.
“There,” Tristan snapped. “That is the River Road. I assume that was your intended destination with that idiotic stunt?”
At the end of the valley was an almost sheer rock face that rose up into the darkness above. Two tunnels bisected the river, water flowing down each. The tunnel on the right was open, but had only a narrow footpath leading off into the darkness. The tunnel on the left was lit with troll-light, but thick steel bars stood as a barricade. In front of the gate stood four trolls, two facing the tunnel and two facing away. They were heavily armored, faces stern and unyielding.
But what stole my attention, and my breath, were the heavy steel bars through which the river flowed. They were so tightly spaced that only a fish might pass through, and the river slammed against them with deafening force. If I had made it into the river, running up against those would almost surely have killed me instantly. Élise had saved my life, and risked her own in the process.
Tristan carried on, seemingly oblivious to my thoughts. “The River Road tunnel and the gated entrance to the labyrinth are the only ways in and out of Trollus. Only oath-sworn and thrice-proven traders may use the River Road. One oath prevents them from speaking about Trollus outside the witch’s boundaries. The other oath prevents them from undertaking any action that might jeopardize Trollus or its citizens. These are magic oaths, utterly and completely binding. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” My voice was weak, because I understood. What he was saying was that there was no way for Chris or any other human to rescue me or bring me aid from outside. Even though countless farmers in the surrounding area might know I was here, not one of them could tell my family where I was. “Why wasn’t I brought this way?”
“Because your friend Luc is a greedy bastard who will never earn the right to walk that road,” Tristan replied, his eyes darkening.
“There are four rules that all traders must follow while they are in Trollus, but they are not magically binding. The first is that they are subservient to any and all trolls. The second is that no human male may touch a troll woman, whether it is against her will or not. And, as my wife, that includes you, in case you were curious. Three, all humans are forbidden to lie while they are in Trollus, so I suggest you don’t get caught at it; and four, no human may charge more than market rate for any good or service. The punishment for violating any of these rules can be, and often is, death.”
“Why aren’t they magically binding?” I asked in a whisper.
“Because my father is a sadistic villain with a taste for blood, human or otherwise!” Tristan exploded. He cast a backward glance at our followers and added more quietly, “The oaths used to be magically binding, but that didn’t provide much sport, if you understand my meaning.”
“God in heaven,” I whispered.
“I cannot say whether your God exists or not, Cécile, but if he does, he has turned his back on this place. Darker powers rule Trollus.” He stared at the water rushing through the rock. “To be bound is a burden, but it is the actions we freely take that cause us the most pain.” He said the last nearly under his breath, but it was impossible to miss the sudden jolt of anguish.
My eyes widened and I shuddered. If what Tristan was saying was true, Chris had broken two rules, both of them unwittingly and both because of me. Almost as though he could read my mind, Tristan said, “What happened today was your doing, Cécile. If you value the lives of your fellow humans, I suggest you don’t let it happen again.”
Abruptly, he let go of me and walked down the street. He paused in front of Albert and Guillaume. “I know what you did to her today.” His voice was monotone and steady, making his words far more ominous than if he had shouted. “It was ill-considered.”
The two guards exchanged uneasy looks.
“She is bound to me,” Tristan continued. “Which means that what she feels, I feel.” His fingers rested on the hilt of his sword. “When you hurt her, you hurt me. Why the hell else do you think my father passed a law against harming her?”
The two trolls fell to their knees. “We did not think, my lord.”
“No,” Tristan said. “But then, you rarely do.” He looked over his shoulder. “Élise, take her back to the palace and keep her there for the rest of the day. I don’t want any more incidents.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Élise curtsied.
“And Élise,” he added. “When lifting something heavy, with magic or otherwise, it is best to ensure one has good footing. Nevertheless, it was well done.”
A gold coin flipped through the air, and she snagged it with one hand and took hold of my arm with the other. “Come with me.”
“What is he going to do to them?” I asked once we were out of earshot.
“Nothing they don’t deserve.”
“I hate him,” I said, my voice sounding hollow and distant in my ears. “He’s evil and wicked, just like his father.”
Élise leaned closer to me, close enough that I could feel her breath on my ear. “If that were true, your friend would be dead.”
Everything snapped back into focus.
Taking my arm, Élise pulled me along with more strength than someone her size should possess. “We need to go back to the palace.”
I went with her, but her comment unnerved me. Only moments ago, I was certain that how I’d seen Tristan behave was proof of what Esmeralda had told me about the troll nobility – that he was human-hating and evil. Now I wasn’t so sure. He’d shown no regard for Chris’ life, but Élise was correct – Chris was still alive. Alive, even though he’d broken rules that carried a death sentence.
And then there were Jérôme’s actions to consider. I tried to focus and replay the events in my mind, but everything had happened so quickly. Jérôme had looked afraid, but not as panicked as a father about to lose his son should be. It was obvious Albert was the one smothering Chris, but Jérôme’s eyes had been fixed on Tristan. Why? Was it merely because he knew enough about the trolls to know that Tristan had the power to pass sentence, or was it because he knew that Tristan would save his son?
Actions speak louder than words.
A common enough saying, to be sure, but what had Jérôme meant by it? Had he meant that Tristan’s sparing Chris’ life meant more than the human-hating drivel that he had been spouting? But Tristan was a troll – he had to tell the truth, so I couldn’t discount his words. He had to mean what he said, didn’t he? Otherwise, wasn’t he telling a lie?